


Little Talks

by arianakristine



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, Gremma Appreciation Event, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Snowing parallels, comatose Graham, referenced attempted murder
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-17
Updated: 2016-12-17
Packaged: 2018-09-09 05:49:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8878396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arianakristine/pseuds/arianakristine
Summary: After the curse breaks, Emma goes to talk to the other person she could always confide in.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I used some secondary canon (the novelization) in here, which was new for me. Those that remember 2x01 will realize what I did to Regina.

* * *

 

                She hadn’t been allowed to visit in weeks.

                At first, her role as Sheriff had given her a good toehold on the visitors list. The staff all knew her, and moved to accommodate her in the times she needed to check in on him. They got used to her wading in late at night, after a particularly bad day. They got used to her nodding off in the plastic chairs, face twisted into a hard grimace. They got used to waking her before it got too late, used to ignoring the dried tears on her cheeks.

                In the past few weeks, though, things had been heating up in the conflict with Regina. Part of her mission to roadblock Emma had included paperwork that appeared as if from nowhere that gave the mayor power of attorney over Graham Humbert.

                At first, Emma just assumed that Regina wanted to revoke her privileges to see him. She had been ready to fight that, ready to use her new influence as Sheriff to bypass that, at least eventually. She found soon enough, though, that Regina had much darker ideas in mind.

                Part of the reason she had lost progress in getting custody of Henry was the fact that she had been fighting to keep Graham alive when Regina wanted to stop the life support.

                It made zero sense. Graham’s brain waves had always been steady, his breathing and heartrate erratic but automatic. None of his organs were failing. He just couldn’t wake up. All they needed to do was keep him nourished and he’d at least have a chance, but Regina hadn’t wanted there to be one. She had wanted to do away with the feeding tube, the only thing he really needed to survive.

                Today was the day she would have failed, the day Graham would have slipped away. She had been ready to leave for many reasons, and not wanting to see the man she’d been holding on for leave this earth had been a big one.

                All out of _spite_. Regina had been ready to kill him _out of spite_.

                She felt something in her chest dislodge, tears stinging in the back of her throat as she stood in the doorway of 202. She had almost lost him, and she had almost lost Henry. All in the space of a day.

                She blinked rapidly, blowing out a low breath. Carefully, she reminded herself that both were okay now. As soon as she rushed into the department, one of the nurses that remained assured her that they hadn’t followed through.

                There had been too much over the last 24 hours, not the least of which was breaking the apparent curse over this town. She had been told he was safe, but now she needed to _see_ it. She needed a moment with him, just as she had over the months of his coma. Just a moment to talk it through.

                Then she could get back to sorting through the mess that this town and her life was.

                The first thing she noticed when she eventually entered was his hair. It was hastily cut, locks chopped too straight across his forehead. His beard must’ve been tended to much earlier, and it was perhaps a little thicker than she’d last seen. He was still covered in tubes and wires, crisscrossing over his body. A glance to the low beeping monitor at his bedside showed steady vitals and the ever-present kangaroo pump and its comforting whir. Seeing it almost made her lightheaded with relief.

                She sighed and walked to his bedside. Her hand trailed near enough to feel the barest hint of heat from his skin, but as always she stopped from actually touching him. He looked pale and unrested, brow creased even in this unnatural sleep. She blew out a low breath and crossed to sit in the stiff chair next to his immobile frame.

                “So, I broke the curse,” she said softly.

                She hadn’t truly thought about it yet, the fact that the curse was real after all. The peripheral happenings regarding it, sure, but magic and poison apples and Snow White? It was so big that she had to push it away from the forefront of her mind, _had_ to focus on other things.

                Luckily, there had been _many_ other things to focus on.

                Immediate crises took precedence, of course. After dealing with it and sticking Regina in a jail cell, she couldn’t talk with Mary Margaret and David. Not yet. They seemed to understand, and took a step back to accommodate her despite the disappointment etched across their faces. But they knew: the most important thing was getting Henry situated.

                Her kid had been exhausted, falling asleep almost instantly once his head hit the pillow on her bed. She had watched him in awe for nearly an hour, knowing that this time his sleep was calm and unfettered. Her palm rested on his chest, feeling it rise and fall rhythmically in a pattern that made her feel more at peace than she had in years.

                He would live with her. She would get to see him every day. And he called her _mom_.

                Her mind was far too busy to fall asleep herself, and the peace wasn’t as enveloping as she wished. It was only seven in the evening, granted, but she knew full well that that sleep wouldn’t come for hours past her normal.

                After confirming and reconfirming that Henry was safe, she had felt ready enough to track down the manipulator that put his life at risk in the first place.

                Mary Margaret (her _mother_ ) had agreed to watch over him while she went on her errand, but David (her _father_ ) insisted on coming with her. She was working so hard on having single-minded focus that her head pounded, the only reminder of the things she was deliberately forgetting.

                Gold had been at his shop, tea things rattling as he calmly took in her ire. She had barely a minute to start in on the infuriating man before he reminded her of the predicament Graham was in. There was something so pleased in his eyes, a certain smugness that came with having the upper hand. And as much as she wished she could fight it, her body had gone cold with fear. Her thoughts were bombarded with imaginings of the hospital executing Regina’s wishes, clouding everything else until her vision was pinpoint.

                She couldn’t have everything else fall into place, only to have him lost in the shuffle. Her heart thundered with the sudden realization of just how much she _needed_ him.

                She had left David there, with a bark of an order to keep watch on Henry with Gold still grinning down on them. Then she called Mary Margaret to let her know she’d be gone later than she thought.

                She didn’t for one moment think that her roommate didn’t know exactly where she was headed.

                Now, she laughed to him, a little bitterly. “The curse was real, Graham. And you knew, didn’t you?”

                _You can’t really believe that’s true_. She remembered protesting to him, remembered pressing her palm across his chest to feel the beats. She knew now that she had been wrong, that the curse she thought he’d been raving about was the cold hard truth.

                It made her wonder just _how_ wrong she had been.

                _You have a heart._

                Tentatively, she let her fingers stretch across the sheets. She flinched slightly at the feel of his icy skin and felt a sudden urge to sob. She pulled back and tugged her hands through her hair, releasing a low breath. She jumped out of the seat, pacing the length of the room. Finally, determinedly, she strode over to him again.

                Was it her imagination that his face looked more relaxed?

                She clanked her teeth together, and then reached forward. With even more hesitancy than the first time, she laid her palm flat against his chest, just over his fourth and fifth ribs. She swallowed; his heart beat in time with the machine beeps, though perhaps it was steadier and more consistent than it had been when she first entered.

                Her own heart felt heavy, bogged down.

                She took her hand back and shook her head. It would be simpler, wouldn’t it? If she could just find his heart and bring him back, as opposed to this horrible waiting game?

                “I’m so sorry, Graham,” she whispered.

                Now that she had touched him after all these months, she couldn’t seem to stop. She ran her fingers through the choppy bangs on his forehead, smoothing across the side of his face and tripping over the cannula. His skin was rough, beard scratchy against her fingertips, but he was warmer now than he had been.

                She stared down at his handsome face, head cocked to the side. Henry’s stories hadn’t told her who he might have been before. The kid had feigned ignorance, and she hadn’t pressed. But still, she knew enough how … _excellent_ a person he was to _her_.

                Her lips burned as she touched him, a ghost of their last kiss tracing across her nerves. The niggling of the emotion she didn’t dare name flared up once more, and her breath stuttered. “I’ve been waiting too long. You can come back, now that it’s broken. _Please_.”

                It was meant to be a command, telling him off for staying away so long, but to her horror her voice cracked and broke into a plea. She stared hard, expectantly, at him, waiting for anything to change. She wasn’t even sure why she expected progress now, only that she _did_. But he remained asleep, chest rising and falling in natural patterns.

                She thought back to months before, of how Mary Margaret had coaxed David from his coma with her voice. Emma’s fingertips felt like sparks, aching with the realization that she wanted that parallel more than anything. She wanted him back.

                She let her hands fall from him and turned, stepping away from the bed and closing her eyes tight. The late evening glare from the curtained windows blinded her a moment, and she tried to use that as explanation for why her eyes stung.

                Suddenly, it was as if there was a shift in the air. Her very soul seemed to lighten, nerves tingling and skin itching in a way it never had before. She turned sharply, lips parting as she was met with cobalt eyes.

                It had been so long that she had forgotten just how darkly blue they were.

                He looked confused a moment, narrowing his focus on her after a long beat. Her knees just barely kept from collapsing on her, and she was shaking hard as she stumbled close again.

                Her mouth dropped open and closed, unsure what to say, what to do. She was sure a wrong breath could stop this moment that already felt so surreal. But she approached, the cold rim of the bed hitting her knees, and he remained there.

                And his eyes remained open.

                His gaze locked on her, and she didn’t dare break it. Her lower lip trembled, and her lungs burned as she released the breath she had been holding in. A sudden brush of his fingers at her hand had her squeeze her eyes tight, a hard sob escaping her. “You’re awake,” she finally stammered out.

                He didn’t smile, a deceptively blank expression meeting her when she opened them again. He looked so stoic, so completely separate from every expression she’d ever seen from him before. “Am I?” he asked hoarsely.

                She bit down on her lip, fresh tears at the back of her throat at the first sound of his voice. It was both familiar and startlingly different, disuse scrambling the accent that had been burned into her memory. She ducked her head and choked out a small, relieved laugh. “I think _I_ am, if that makes a difference,” she answered.

                His mouth parted, creases appearing across his face before his head slammed back against the pillow. He looked weak, frail. He coughed, a rough sound to break the heaviness. With it, everything felt more real. He was _real_.

                She cleared her throat, pushing back the emotion. “Are you—“

                 “The curse is really broken? For everyone?”

                The fact that he knew that was a strange comfort, though surprising. She nodded, not trusting her voice, a smile spreading across her features. He was _awake_.

                “But it’s not safe,” he murmured, and it didn’t seem to be a question.

                “I—“ she started, and then swallowed. She was so sure of their safety with his consciousness for a minute that she had forgotten how up in the air everything actually was. “I think it is.”

                “Is she dead?”

                Her head snapped up, heart hammering in her chest. She didn’t need him to clarify. The mob that appeared outside the mayor’s mansion flashed through her head, as did Leroy’s offhand reaction and David’s concern only for the people. “No.”

                He shook his head and tried to rise, grimacing as the IV tugged with him. His lips curled back as he settled. “Then it’s not safe.” His eyes were hard, mouth a firm line. In it, suddenly there wasn’t fragility but pure steel. “I know, you see. I could hear everything, like I was trapped. I know what she wanted. Her last ditch effort to be rid of me.”

                He sounded so bitter. She fumbled for words, any words at all, but none came to her. She didn’t know how to comfort him knowing that he didn’t find safety so long as Regina lived.

                But then his fingers were seeking hers, and when she looked at him he was focused on their clasped hands.  

                “Thank you,” he said slowly, webbing their fingers and then untangling them. His voice was calmer, settling back to what she recalled. “For saving me, and then for keeping me alive.”

                Her eyes darted away, and tears tracked down her cheeks. “As for keeping you alive, I had to. Graham, you are … I just—“ she swallowed, unable to get the words out. She shook her head. “But I wasn’t the one who saved you, Graham. The paramedics did that, just barely.”

                “ _You_ did.” A rough, shaky hand came to rest on her cheek and she leaned into his warm touch almost unconsciously. His thumb brushed her cheekbone, wiping away tears.

                “I don’t know about that,” she said, remembering the boy who claimed she was a Savior. What did it mean for her, now that she knew his fairytales were real? Having him real and alive and awake in her arms (or rather, she in his hands) made her almost ready to accept the title.

                “I meant it,” he said softly. “That’s how you saved me. Because, Emma? It was true.”

                Her stomach seizes, and she looked up in surprise. His countenance was serious, but behind those dark blue irises was a truth and a reverence that made her aware that he really _had_ been aware during his coma. Because she’d asked him, so many times before, if his last words to her had been true.

                _I love you._

                She nodded compulsively, then brought her own hand to cover his. “Okay.”

                For the first time since waking, he smiled, that bright, beautiful thing she’d only seen a handful of times before.

                A blush overtook her, the realization that whatever was between them made her heart feel _light_. But she only let it consume her a moment, before she returned to his fears. “I should probably get Whale or whoever he is in here.”

                He shook his head. “I’d rather he not,” he said simply. He yanked the oxygen tubing off his face and then rubbed his chest. “I feel …,” he trailed off, and his brow furrowed as he centered on something. “I _feel_.”

                “Not exactly a diagnosis, Graham,” she countered.

                He gave her a look and then reached up again, but this time his hand met the back of her neck and he pulled her head down to meet him. The kiss was a surprise, certainly, but such a welcome one that she couldn’t find the will to tell him off for it. She practically sighed into his mouth, the sudden familiar pressure a relief in more ways than one. He coaxed her into softening the kiss, and he stayed close once he separated them. “See?”

                She couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped her, and she brought her hands up to his face, drifting through the scruff on his jaw once more. “Well, it is a good sign.”

                An explosion boomed, shaking the ground. Emma shot up, leaving him to cross to the window. Car alarms were chirping in the distance. The sun had set since he’d woken, and a transformer on the street began sparking against the dark sky. The lights in the room flickered and then the hum of backup emergency power brought everything back. When she turned to Graham, he was looking at the lights in a sort of troubled puzzlement.

                “I don’t know what it is,” she said, and her hand hovered over the walkie at her side. “It looks like a storm, but something tells me ….”

                “Someone said magic is back,” he affirmed, his tone dark. “Who knows what that could have stirred up.”

                Her lashes flicked and she nodded. “Gold brought it back. Guess it’s time to go back to work.”

                “Where’s Henry?” he asked.                                                                                                                                     

                Her lip quirked up on one side, feeling a gentle bubbling inside her at hearing him ask. She remembered the few times the kid had been able to come visit, how he’d sit at the end of the bed and stare hard at the Sheriff’s face, sometimes reading quietly from the book, sometimes just talking to him when she’d return from the bathroom. She knew how highly her son thought of this man. To see the concern etched across his features for her kid … it was affirming. But it also returned her primary focus: Henry. “With Mary Margaret. I’ll call to check in on him, but I really should _see_ him. And then I still need to confront Gold, and see how bad the power lines are, and—“

                “Well,” he drawled. “Get me unhooked and I’ll come with.”

                She ran her fingers across her lips, where she still felt his touch. A warm feeling tingled through her, the idea of working side-by-side with him again. Like it used to be. _Partners_. “You need to be checked out. You’ve been in a coma for three months, Graham.”

                He shrugged, a careless motion that seemed to fit him. “Then I’m well-rested.”

                “You had an aneurysm,” she countered matter-of-factly.

                His eyebrows bounced up and he sighed. “No, I didn’t. But there’s time for that explanation later.”

                She hesitated, somewhere between wanting to know more and needing to get to Henry. She could admit that she’d prefer to see her son with him, though. That way she wouldn’t have to take her eyes off either of them. “You’ve probably got some atrophy,” she hedged, her final protest half-hearted.

                He looked down to his feet, and she could she the blankets move as he rolled his ankles. “I don’t know that I can run any marathons, but I seem to be all right. It’s not like I’ve been in a coma for twenty-eight _years_ ,” he said dryly. “Blame magic.”

                She pressed her lips together and walked over to him again. “Fine. I’ll get the nurse to get you unhooked while I call. Deal?”

                His look was almost awed as he squeezed her hand. “Deal.”

                She surprised him this time, brushing across his lips a little harder than she first intended. She rested her forehead to his after, lingering in his space. “So you know … I do, too. Really,” she whispered, nervous eyes wide on his.

                “I told you,” he said, his tone teasingly light. “It’s true.”

                It took her a moment to catch his double meaning, and she rolled her eyes to cover the way her stomach flip-flopped.

                There was still a lot to deal with, but knowing she had someone by her side for it … well, that certainly made her shoulders feel lighter.


End file.
